


After Hours

by kaonite113



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: 4 million year pining, M/M, cheeky behaviour, engex in the office, its not that deep bro but it is, post war truce au?, reminiscing on simplier times, robot horny, snippets of pre war megop life, they in love or whateva
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:54:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29665500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaonite113/pseuds/kaonite113
Summary: Megatron and Orion have a discussion about the past in their office, accompanied by some engex and repressed emotions.
Relationships: Megatron/Optimus Prime, Megatron/Orion Pax
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46





	After Hours

“Remember that night, on the roof of the Iacon Council building, Prime?”

“It’s Orion now.”

Megatron huffed. Just as it was back then too. Par the gritty sarcastic tone. He leaned back against the cold wall, the lowered temperature calming his tepid mind. 

“Yes, I do recall,” Orion answered after a moment. He thought about the night often enough, loading the ancient memory file up for a glimpse of what easily could have been or what was. It was a guilty pleasure, but knowingly suppressing it would be an act of self-sabotage. He shifted his frame, so different from how it was back then. So much larger, more powerful- and yet, he still had to tilt his helm up slightly to stare at Megatron from beside him.  
The grey mech tipped the last dregs of a bottle of engex into his intake. He watched, sort of entranced as the ex-warlords neck cabling moved in time with his swallows. Megatron was always an odd sort of marvel to him. That frame, so unlike his own forge, had its personal presence and persistence. The promise of power behind that worn grey plating was entirely enchanting. He wasn’t the first to notice and surely wouldn’t be the last. Although no one was more acutely aware of it than the mech himself.

“Do you?”

Orion was pulled back from his thoughts, ripping his optics away from his worst enemy and instead choosing the safer option of sliding his audials back and laying his helm on the other mech’s shoulder.  
Megatron gave a slight grunt as he did this, but didn’t complain. He was always a stickler for personal space - but enough engex could make even Gladiators loose of mind. Rumours had spread during the war that Megatron’s energon ran cold, that his spark flushed of ice. Orion knew better. His frame was always surprisingly warm. 

“I do. It was ... the day you gave that speech on the Tarnian Marsh. It was your first big crowd and, - you. You were very hopeful regarding the future.” Orion thought out loud, pulling the memory file up from his banks, just as he was sure Megatron was doing too. The weather was nice that day, and Megatron gave the speech around sunset, after making a concentrated point that lighting was important. As was the fact that the mechs listening would be tired and work-weary from the day past, so they would be most susceptible to influence in terms of his cause. He was right, of course. Orion often wondered if the war would have even begun if Megatron was any less appealing to crowds. He seemingly worked them with ease, words flowing from him and remaining in the sparks of those lucky enough to hear. When Megatron spoke, one was enamoured to listen. His words possessed a certain gravity and charm unfounded by privilege or premonition. They were pure of passion. It was a godly talent, and not one he possessed.

The mech himself cleared his throat.  
“Yes, if I recall correctly a mech from out of town - a Praxian I think, heckled me and he got beaten to death by the crowd that day,” Megatron spoke factually, but the repressed grimace in his voice was audible to Orion. “I suppose .. those thin beginnings were the start of toxic Decepticon loyalty and.. acceptance of bloodshed as a normality early on.” He paused. Orion had noticed the older mech had come to a habit of deconstructing the past recently. As if finding the roots of the abominable would make it rest easier on his mind.  
“But of course, back then it hardly mattered. Fifty mechs could die a day in a brawl but as long as it didn’t affect the productivity of a region or the effectiveness of the regime, the council did not care.” He added, bitterly. 

Orion hummed in thought. It was becoming increasingly clear that their recollections of the event differed greatly.  
“I recall that... vaguely. I don’t think that lasted for more than five minutes. What I do remember.. is you.” He ex-vented, taking a moment to practise the words.  
“On that hill, fists clenched and armour scuffed. Fresh out of the Pits of Kaon, preaching to the masses. I remember how you were right.. and the sun glinted off you, and the light of it lit a fresh fire in your optics that travelled, and began an inferno in the crowd.”

Megatron opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it.

“I think I would’ve given it all for you, then.” Orion swallowed. It was unguarded. Megatron always had a way of drawing words out of him without saying anything at all. The truck curled in on himself, feeling his spark clench lightly in his casing. There was unspeakable guilt there. 

“It’s a shame you didn’t.”

“We aren’t having that conversation again.”

Megatron grunted, but didn’t push the point any further. In truth, he was enjoying this. The distant past played house in his mind frequently and there was only one mech alive who he could truly discuss those memories with in detail. 

“I don’t recall the speech as much. Only the evening that followed.”

Orion almost rolled his optics. Of course he did. 

“The night we first made love.” He said, almost soulfully, red optics glinting. 

“Made love?” Orion quirked an optic ridge, looking up at the grey mech incredulously. “Is that what you called it? I remember it as being mauled by a great beas-“

“Yes, well.” He was cut off.  
“Perhaps it was a little more passionate than I care to admit. We were both inexperienced in all parts of life.” Megatron’s digit circled the rim of his bottle of engex.  
“But, it was still love.” He spoke with a sort of finality, and Orion couldn’t help but feign to cover the sinking feeling that the past tense of his words brought. 

They fell silent for a moment, both leaned against the wall and each other. Weight perfectly distributed and even. The low hum of their charge and energon lines was one of the few sounds that seeded the room’s serpent silence. 

Megatron reached over to the table next to him and grabbed another bottle of triple-filtered engex, popping the cap off with ease, using only his index digit in a practised move.  
It was clear that silence, in the company of Orion, bothered him. Compassionate and inevitable silence were two different things. And besides, they hadn’t finished recollecting...

“So how often did you self-service to the memory, Prime?” 

What the fuck. 

It was a clear ploy but clearly worked as the mech to his side tensed. Megatron allowed his EM field to expand, suggestive and encompassing. Orion did not respond in kind, much to the larger mech’s displeasure. 

“If you wanted company you could’ve chosen any mech on board this vessel and they would’ve fallen to your pedes.” Orion spoke with a certain glittery venom that he reserved only for Megatron. It was a tease, he knew Megatron well enough not to be offended. Controversially to popular belief, the Champion of Kaon did not just sling it out wherever he felt like. However, the ex-prime’s energon lines responded differently, speeding up and causing a slight shift in charge that he could only hope the larger mech wouldn’t sense. 

“That wasn’t what I asked, or what I want. Don’t put words into my intake, Prime.” Megatron responded with a subdued air, tossing aside the previous comment. 

“I never did.”

“Don’t lie.”

Megatron remained silent.

“It’s Orion, or did you forget opportunely?”

He moved his helm and turned to look at his greatest enemy. Megatron moved too, throat cables tightening lightly as he met those burning blue optics. A look he knew was for him and him alone, the same look that had made his spark spin in its casing .. and count his days till death.

“You ask filthy questions, Megatron of Tarn. One’s that you already know the answer to, but you want to hear me say it.” The red and blue mech broached, placing a servo over the torn Decepticon symbol on Megatron’s chest. The use of his full designation made the grey mech’s jaw clench. Perhaps he had been overzealous.  
“Would you tease me? Or try something? Would it add to your sense of pride?” He pried, watching as Megatron’s staunch demeanour seemed to melt under his touch. The sight added charge to his lines. He loved having this.

“Orion-“

He brought his hips up skilfully, planting himself on the crux of Megatron’s lap so they were face to face. This was unexpected, but not unwelcome if those red optics and crooked smile were anything to go by.  
“Would that get you off? The thought of me arching into my own servo at the thought of that night?”

Well, he was especially vivid tonight. So much for being a holy figure.

Megatron’s fans pinged his HUD for permission to startup, a request he quickly denied. Of course, the answer to these questions was yes, but giving him the satisfaction of words was not the cards for tonight.  
Steadily, he moved his servos up towards the hips atop his own, an advance that Orion quickly batted away. 

“No touching.”

The ex-warlord almost audibly groaned. Games.  
Not that he didn’t enjoy the partaking, but the longevity could sometimes be excruciating. He dropped his servos, instantly placing them by his sides in a small act of compliance. He could play nice for now and reap the rewards later. After all, these moments with Orion were becoming increasingly rare. They were both so busy, or so tired or so old. Of course, he enjoyed the thought of Orion alone, fawning over their memories, over him. How could one not? Megatron doubted there was a mech alive that could deny their lover’s remissed thoughts.

“You say you remember the evening well? My memory is a little hazy, so why don’t we redefine those details and you can walk me through it.” The semi-truck ground his hips down, panels pressing flush against Megatron’s, hot so he got the message. In truth, he had very little idea what he was doing but this felt right. It was early, still becoming reacquainted with each other’s frames. Armour seams that he would’ve attacked once, he now traced like the spine of a holy book.

Megatron’s ex-vent hitched in his throat at the contact, frame already beginning to react. For all the control he had, Megatron’s passions were something not even he could quell.  
He tilted his helm back, letting it hit the wall with a dull clunk in a sign of submission. The optics that met his own were alight, Orion’s slightly scarred faceplates glowing the dull luminary of the room. He was undoubtable. He always had been, before the war, during, now. His demeanour so open and attentive, like one just wanted to sink into him and never return, because the world was so much better to view through his optics. 

“We climbed to the top of the Council Building because it was the tallest in the old city, and we sat on the edge. I told you not to dangle your legs over the side, but you, of course, ignored me and did it anyway because you wanted the ‘best view of the lights’ -“

“Is this part necessary?” Megatron interjected, shifting his weight so their panels moved against each other slowly. It irked him that Orion didn’t seem to be as eager to get on with this as he was. 

“You want me to skip to the part where you were against that pillar, and you screa-“

“Ah.” Orion promptly cut him off, placing a digit over the ex-warlords’ lips to exaggerate the point. A move that quickly proved ineffective against a mech with the audacity to take the digit into his intake and suck on it slowly, working his glossa over the tip in a lewd demonstration of what Orion could be getting if he let up.  
The Autobot's brow only hardened as he pulled back his digit. 

Megatron’s engine revved annoyedly beneath him, a rumble he could feel the vibrations of vividly. Megatron’s sturdy and strong internals were just one of the many things that made him so suited to any walk of life that pleased him to stride down.

“No, you skipped too far ahead.” He eyed the mech. “You took my servo and you sat me down with you,” Orion spoke softly as if telling a fairytale as he took Megatron’s servo in his own and placed it over his thrumming spark. Megatron looked enamoured and leant in. So ready to fall into a vision of love if Orion would catch him.  
“And we looked over the great city … pointing out all the landmarks and dark spots and places we’d travelled to and wanted to go. You showed me the outline of Kaon, just over the skyline, with its luminous arenas and the emptiness that surrounded it.” 

Megatron did remember this, the memory file loaded up in his HUD and played as background accompaniment to Orion’s words. He leant forwards servo unmoving from the mech’s chest, where the careful, caring charge of that blue spark could be felt through the armour.

“We laughed and spoke until the early hours of the morning. I remember looking at the skyline, and then up at you only to find you were staring right back, like something out of those old romance datapads I used to steal from Elita-One.”

Megatron grinned.

“I kissed you,”

“You did.” 

He remained quiet for a moment as if gathering the words to respond and watching as they fell away repeatedly in his mind.  
“You just looked so… beautiful. It was all I could think to do. Words would have ruined it. As they are now.”

Orion only gave a faint smile and leaned down to press a firm kiss to his warlord's mouth, to which he responded eagerly, wrapping grey arms around his neck until they were batted away once again. He was growing more impatient by the moment, frame unsettled and unsated.

“You kissed me on top of the Iacon Council tower. I used to think about that every time we fought. Every time you held a blade to my throat or you, a gun to my helm. You kissed me the way everyone deserves to be kissed, at least once in their life.” 

Megatron opened his mouth to speak.

“Don’t ruin it.”

It was promptly closed, tasting his own words.

“You finally stood up from the edge, if only to make sure you didn’t lose your balance now your arms were on me.” He lifted both of Megatron’s arms with fair ease, removing the one from his spark and placing the open servos on his hips, which Megatron gripped instinctively and pulled the red and blue mech down on top of him far more gently than he should’ve. He understood what the laconian was doing, fetching words and glossy memories interlaced with the more disquieted corners of his processor. 

“After that, it was mostly a blur of overloads and colours,” Orion explained. Megatron slumped. 

The crescendo he had been expecting this to lead to was apparently not going to come as easy as he wanted. Orion was still talking, vague nothings about moments long since passed. He rubbed small circles into structured hips in his servos, tuning out the world. Decidedly, he would be content to remain like this for hours. Orion’s weight was familiar and pleasurable above him. He was at ease and warm, however, that did not matter to his subconscious which was grappling with the fresh charge buzzing in his frame and ruminating in his field. His processor swam in a pool of tar for ideas, how could he get this situation on the side for optimum beneficial pleasure and efficiency without annoying the ex-prime or causing too much of a stir-

“Megatron!” 

His designation pulled him back, right on the cusp of a brilliant plan too. 

“Mm?” He mm’d.

Orion’s fired blue optics rolled above him, a move that shouldn’t have tugged his spark as much as it did.  
“I was wondering if perhaps you’d like to …” He reached for the right words, disliking having to say this out loud twice. “Jog my memory?”

“Jog your memory?” Megatron arched a brow, taking his chance to be coy with both servos and running with it.

Orion traced a digit from the grey mech’s collar, over his chassis and down his torso to the top of his hips as if rolling the question over in his mind was an extroverted act.  
“Well you’ve hardly opened up, so I thought you might appreciate the chance.”

Megatron looked down before he looked up. Orion was giving him a choice. Either he could speak in detail about what that night was to him, or he could take the more carnal route if that made him uncomfortable. A younger mech wouldn’t have bothered to debate it. 

However, his spark surged as he looked at the framing of the mech above, and those soft optics told him all he really wanted. For once, it was in both of their interests to oblige. 

“It was my admission” Megatron breathed. “My outright lack of control ..” 

If he was going to expose his spark, it had to be through a premonition of words that Orion could repeat over and over again in his processor. Megatron disliked religion in any form but knew his own. His servos moved up, tracing the red mech’s windshields and dipping into intricate circuitry beneath armour.

“As I fell and worshipped at the pede of a soon-to-be-Prime.” The floor of their shared office was barely big enough for their two warframes but Megatron picked up his all and laid him flat, servos moving to his faceplates, voice delicate. Orion swallowed, spreading his legs apart so Megatron could slot with ease between them. Laving in both sides of his gamble. 

“No need to be dramatic.” He quipped, making himself comfortable. 

“I’m simply being accurate to memory.” Megatron’s red optics refracted the dull light and gleamed, never allowing Orion to catch enough of them as he leant down and placed kisses to his jaw. Eager engines rolled with power as Orion tilted his helm back and released an intake, allowing him access on his neck without even thinking.  
“Because I did worship you. Not because of your Primehood or your following, no.”

Megatron usurped his lover’s neck cables, kissing where he usually bit.  
“ I did because you are immaculate, Orion. Because you always have been.” Megatron’s servos stroked over the semi-trucks sides, wanderlust fuelling his lines. 

“I was willing to devote myself to you more than any Spectralist was to their God. When we kissed my spark lit a second fire. At the time I thought it was the engex, or the way I lived back then. But that burn never faded. No matter how many days passed or battles fought or threats given. It disgusted me.”

Bright blue optics dimmed, lighting Orion’s faceplates in a subdued way. This was it, he could offline here and want nothing more from life. He squeezed his legs around that black waist, pulling him impossibly closer, combined in life as they were here. Inevitable. He’d made a deal with God and trusted the devil.

Megatron seemingly moved automatically, arching for a better look at him with thinly veiled adoration.

“That isn’t a burn, it's called a bond.” 

“- come here.” He reached out, this time wrapping his arms around the larger mech’s neck and pulling him down into a heated kiss. Their helms tilted and moved in a dance of reformation until they broke again with a mix of sighs and heavy breaths. Megatron shifted first, grinding his black hips down against glossed white ones. They gasped in unison, charge crackling between them that had been blossoming beneath plating for moments too long. 

“Willing to devote yourself?” Orion keened, words lacking their snip. 

Megatron smiled into the kiss, spark swollen. “Entirely, now.”

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this at 5am. thinking about going to tesco tomorrow. enjoy


End file.
